#they gotta fix some shit around here and that means committing several crimes all at once. sometimes more

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 4 ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, furina, lyney {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood {☆} word count 3.7k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ]

Fontaine was bathed in darkness, not even the moon daring to illuminate where the common man fears to walk. The streets were bleak and empty save for the constant, rhythmic ticking and clanking of machines marching on endlessly, dauntlessly wading where even the bravest dared not to venture. Not even the sharp click of the Gardes boots followed the occasional hisses of steam as they walked the barren streets.

It was haunting, and it'd been like that for days now. It showed little signs of stalling in the slightest, too. Every inch of Fontaine was practically crawling with Gardemeks– like a swarm of rats skittering about.

Arlecchino had secluded herself in the Hotel Bouffes d'ete for days at this point, waiting– biding her time. Her nails clicked against the wood as she tapped at the table in a stilted rhythm, the subtle click of the clock mixing into the clanking outside, weaving in and out of earshot as the patrols slipped by. She reached forward after a moment of thought, reaching for the white king.

She leaned back against the chaise, tilting her head just enough to catch a glimpse of a patrol of Gardemeks as they vanished behind the rows and rows of buildings. It wasn't enough to keep her attention for long, however, her features twisting in disinterest as she glanced back to the chessboard– and the letter neatly resting beside it. The seal was unmistakable and a sobering sight, demanding her attention– the soft hues of blue etched into the shape of a dragon stared back at her in a way that almost unsettled her.

She had already parsed through it's contents hundreds of times, but she was met with only vague, flowing script that only served to irritate her more then anything– it filled the page top to bottom yet managed to say nothing at all. Her hand reached out again, but instead of reaching for the letter she plucked the black rook from the board, setting it down with a soft click.

Arlecchino had all the time in the world to sit back and observe her prey, but all that time would be useless if she lacked the information to act.

And he was quite tight fisted about it, evidentially. None of her inquiries or attempts to decipher any potential codes in the letter left her empty handed. She could not act without even knowing the reason for his summons– it was almost worded like a personal affair rather then one would expect for a foreign diplomat. In truth, she'd expected a scalding report on her operatives, but it lacked any mention of anything of the sort.

She was no stranger to people masking hostility behind pretty words and compliments, not that it was ever unwarranted per se– the Fatui did not create connections through honesty and genuine kindness. They have strong armed more then their fair share of people into cooperation to the point distrust is all the Fatui are met with outside of Snezhnaya. Every word was meant to conceal the deceit, every action meant to conceal the price later paid.

So she had been..skeptical of the letter, to put it lightly. She doubted the Iudex of all people would offer a hand to the Fatui without a price attached– a trap, perhaps, meant to lure in the most powerful piece left on the board. Her eyes narrowed, reaching for a white rook and moving it to the right.

Or he was hiding something. Something that he simply couldn't risk getting out to anyone, not even the Divine themself. A tempting prize, whatever it was.

..A dangerous prize, too.

She'd considered burning the letter and forgetting it all together– the risk was great, and she couldn't risk getting caught up by whoever else the Iudex may have on his side of the board. But she could hardly pass up the challenge and the prize that he fought so hard to keep from prying eyes and ears. Even her agents came back empty handed each time. She lazily picked up a black rook, sliding the white pawn aside.

"Lyney," Arlecchino drawled, crossing one leg over the other and turning her gaze to the door as it slowly creaked open. The pale visage of Lyney stepped through, though his siblings were noticeably absent. The weariness that weighed down on his shoulders was apparent in the slightest furrow of his brows and the subtle creak of leather as he clenched his fists behind his back. "Father." He choked out, the title dragged out by the sharp inhale and shaky exhale.

He looked out of breath, she noted.

The silence that lingered after the small exchange was punctuated only by the click of another chess piece being moved. She sets aside the black rook, letting it sit among the dozen other pieces that had been wiped off the board. She can see the conviction glinting beneath the fog of exhaustion, but if he would utilize it was another matter all together.

He had seemed to make his choice quickly, at the very least.

"Our contacts and operatives within the Fortress of Meropide have gone silent– all we have is their final confirmed missive.." His voice is confident, but it is rigid as the words spill from his lips. He takes a sharp step forward, unfolding his arms from behind his back and opening his hands– the small, water stained and messily folded note catches her eye, plucking it from his palms with a half hearted interest. "They believe the Duke left the Fortress of Meropide..and that he may be coming to the Court of Fontaine."

Her eyes narrow dangerously, nearly crumpling the thin paper in her hands– yet just as quickly, she collects herself.

But she cannot get rid of the bitter taste on her tongue, lingering as she sets down the note and slides it to the side, her lips pursed into a thin line.

So the Iudex had shown one of his pieces..she tightly grasps a black rook, tipping over the white rook, letting it roll against the board.

If the Duke was involved, things were much more complicated then she expected– he would be a problem, she was certain. She couldn't blame the lamb for fearing the wolf, either. Whether her agents had been killed or captured by the man mattered little. He had his ways, and he was a force that could instill fear in even them.

Which meant the possibility that her operation was already compromised was far too real.

What had the Iudex so concerned he had gone through the trouble of bringing in the Duke and herself? The Fatui was one thing, but to specifically request one of it's Harbingers..

The Prophecy? The thought had her clenching her fist, but..no. If it were to rear it's head now, the Iudex could simply not afford to waste time on his contacts deciphering his nonsensical script– If the prophecy were to be the issue, there time would be limited to mere minutes in the worst of cases. Which meant it was worth biding his time in order to ensure absolute secrecy.

So if not the prophecy, then what?

Her next moves were..limited. She was already walking on eggshells considering her position and the reputations of the Fatui– especially with a Harbinger in the midst. If they caught wind of her operations, they'd weed out her operatives and be on guards for any snakes that lingered in their garden.

She reached for the chessboard again, picking up one of the white rooks from the board with a scowl. The sharp click as she sets down the white rook and sets aside the black pawn draws a shaky inhale from Lyney as she moves another black pawn, the dull click of the pieces drowning out the distant clinking of machines.

..A draw, perhaps.

The pieces were all falling into place– the players of this game were slowly being revealed. Whether she could secure her victory..she was unsure.

She wasn't even sure who her opponent was. Only that the Iudex himself was but another piece in their game.

Arlecchino reached for the board again, yet this time she hesitated. Perhaps she could still swipe the win from beneath them, if she played her cards right.

She would simply have to capture the king– or, if need be, let it end on a draw. Either way, she would not concede. She could not afford to concede. Down to the last piece, she would drag out this match until she was in a position to force their hand into the outcome she desired.

She stood slowly, picking up the king piece and observing it for only the briefest of moments before she set it down on the table, taking measured steps around the table and across the room. She was hunting a much more dangerous quarry today– it would be no simple runaway traitor this time.

"Do you remember the directive?" She inquired coldly, her hand lingering on the door for that long, tense moment. "..Yes, Father." Lyney faltered, taking a hesitant step back and bowing at the waist. "Then do not stray."

All that was left was the silence and click of the door shutting behind her as she disappeared down the hall, her boots clicking harshly against the floorboards. The rest of the agents knew better then to linger in her path as she stepped down into the lobby, adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves. She barely even acknowledged the Fatui agent standing at the ready by the heavyset doors, their gloves hands held out with her cloak held loosely in their palms. She quickly snagged it from them, tugging it over her board shoulders and clasping it around her throat.

With a quick tug, she brought the hood up over her head to conceal her sharp features, lifting her hand and placing a neatly folded note within their waiting hands. She had only one chance to make the right moves and secure her victory– no matter the cost.

Each piece had it's purpose.

Oft, that purpose was a bloody and horrible end– but for the grand goal of the Fatui built on the backs of the dead, it was an honor.

She didn't bother speaking a word as she dismissed them with a wave of her hand, pushing open the heavyset doors and stepping out into the barren, damp streets. The rhythmic clink and whir of Gardemeks was still distant– she needed to move. Her boots clicked and splashed in the rain soaked stone of the streets as she slithered between the buildings, ducking through the openings in the patrols.

It was almost too easy.

She tilted her head back, taking in the towering Palais Mermonia with a scowl, her hands clenched into fists. The final moves were being played– the king was within her reach, yet she felt no more confident then when she began.

The air carried a sense of unease, thick and heavy, filling her lungs until she felt her breath still in her chest– listening to the empty, bleak night that seemed so..quiet.

She'd done her fair share of research, had more then her fair share of her agents try to peer into the Iudex's office or the Archon's supposedly hidden chambers, but every attempt was a failure. She had to give them credit, they were quite elusive when they wished to be. Though now she only thought about it bitterly– this was all a risky gamble, in the end, and only time would tell if it paid off.

With minimal effort, she'd managed to pull herself to the flat, tiled roof, eyeing the massive tower peaking out of the center cautiously. At least here the wandering patrols down below weren't likely to notice her..she could hear them passing by the spot she'd been in only a few minutes ago, just beneath her. She pulled the hood further over her face, peering through the sheer darkness of the night for any oddities, but it was almost impossible to see in the dark.

Her boots clicked softly against the tiles as she approached the tower jutting out from the Palais, her hand gliding along the smooth stone, pressing against odd indents or crevices. If it was for the Archon's chambers, she doubted they made it very difficult– she'd only met the woman once, but she doubted the Iudex make it all that complex just from a brief glance. And it surprised her little when one of the stones sunk into the wall, gears whirring as the walls split open to reveal a stairwell straight into an inky black hall. Only the barest hint of light peaked under the door at the bottom, but it's occupants must have heard her, considering it went out not a moment later.

She cautiously stepped down into the small crevice, her breath visible in the bitter cold air– her shoulders tensed at the subtle sound of muffled footsteps behind the door, her vision flaring with a molten heat between her shoulder blades as she reached for the worn handle of the door. The heat of her vision was enough to just barely heat the metal, her vision flaring like a quickly building inferno.

Arlecchino was prepared for a fight, if it came down to it.

The door creaked as she pressed against it, shoving it open with a grunt of effort and surveying the room with narrowed eyes and a biting remark on the tip of her tongue– the lavish opulence was expected, she supposed, but the lack of the towering figure of the Iudex was not.

Yet before she could get a word in or even take in her surroundings properly, the light flickered back on and she had to squeeze her eyes shut with a hiss at the sudden brightness. She could hear the door being shoved closed behind her, the hurried footsteps retreating just as quickly as her eyes adjusted to the light.

..This was a joke, wasn't it? It had to be.

She'd expected the Iudex, perhaps even the Duke if she'd been unlucky, not the Hydro Archon. She had half the mind to test her worth as an Archon then and there, her temper flaring like an uncontrollable blaze, barely kept at bay. It took all her self control to force herself to smile politely at the woman rather then snarl.

"Miss Furina," She sneered beneath her hood, x shaped pupils locked onto the startled, trembling Archon with thinly veiled contempt. "What a..pleasant surprise. You'll have to forgive my manners, I assumed I was meeting with the Iudex." She observed her body language carefully– the way her eyes darted about like a frightened rabbit seeking escape, the slightest tremble of her lips..

Arlecchino opened her mouth to offer another scathing remark, but her jaw audibly clicked shut as her entire body seemed to lock up. Even her vision went cold against her back, a chilling feeling creeping up her spine as someone, or something, crept up behind her. Their footsteps were almost silent, the slight rustling of their clothes the only thing she could hear over her heart pounding against her ribcage.

Arlecchino had always prided herself on being on the other end of that sensation– she was the monster, and her target was the prey frozen like a deer between the hunters crosshair.

It was a chilling feeling to have the dynamic shifted on it's head.

She couldn't even swallow, her jaw clenched so hard she could hear it creak as she tried to reason with her quickly splintering mind– a futile effort, her joints locking up almost painfully. Black spots were quickly swallowing her vision from the lack of air in her lungs, the sound of shuffling behind her barely audible over the ringing in her ears.

For a moment – a moment too long to have only lasted the seconds that it did, yet so quick it gave her whiplash – she thought she would hit the floor dead before she could even glimpse her assailant.

And then it was gone. She came crashing back into reality with a startled inhale, her lungs burning and her knees nearly buckling under her. The instinct to lash out and kill whoever had done it was intense, yet she couldn't bring herself to move even a finger– it would be so easy to twist around and ignite them with searing flames, but her feet were rooted in place.

She almost didn't notice the surprisingly gentle hands unclasping her cloak, tugging it off her shoulders, if not for the sheer intensity of the presence still lingering behind her. Her mind was still fractured, struggling to right itself after the ordeal, and it had her seething.

"..Are you certain you held back enough?" Furina croaked, the normally soft lilt raspy and almost hoarse. "Not– not that I doubt your capability, most Divine!"

Arlecchino felt her nails dig harshly into her palms, heat swelling beneath her skin– Divine? Had she lost her mind? The Divine was..

The Divine was upon their throne where they belonged. She'd seen them!

"Hm. Well, maybe? Sorry, I didn't think it'd affect you too." Their voice was sickeningly soft as they stepped around her like she wasn't even there, focusing their attention on the Archon who seemed more then delighted about it. "What gave you that impression, most Divine? Aha, I..was completely unaffected, as you can see! Perfectly fine."

Furina let out a small squeak when they pinched her cheek, but the almost affectionate smile that tugged at their lips revealed the lack of malice behind the action.

"You're a bad liar, Furina. You might want to sit down..please?" They didn't take her protests for an answer, gently pushing her to sit on the bed before abruptly turning to face Arlecchino once more, a forced smile on their lips. "Oh, good, you're..uh, not dead. That's good. I thought I fried your brain. Sorry?"

..Had she hit her head on the way here? The Divine should still be on their throne, yet she couldn't shake the weight of their stare– it felt tangible. She felt like she was standing face to face with the stars– galaxies and constellations bearing down upon her.

She grit her teeth and clenched her hands until she felt the sting of her nails against her palms, grounding herself in the pain through the sheer overwhelming nature of their existence.

"You.." She croaks, reaching out with a shaky hand and grabbing them by the collar of their shirt, lifting them up until their feet left the floor– she pays no mind to the startled protests of the Archon. Arlecchino would crush her like a bug before she even got the chance to intervene and they both knew it. "You shouldn't exist– you aren't them, and yet you..you're the imposter, aren't you?" Her grip tightens yet they face her without an ounce of fear, meeting her unyielding glare with a pondering look.

Arlecchino wanted to make them bleed just to see if she could, the urge to sink her teeth into skin welling up in her chest to the point she visibly snarled, her mask of politeness long . "You're the imposter." Her expression falls for a moment before she schools it into one of apathy, setting them back down and holding them there for a moment, finally releasing them after a tense moment. "Or you were supposed to be."

Hers brows furrow– she wants to demand answers, to throttle them for damning them to being nothing more then dolls for the supposed Divine to break at their whim, but none of the words come to her.

"..Why now? The current Divine has been in power for years, yet you descend now?" Her shoulders tensed, lips pursed into a thin line– it's impossible to ignore the truth that lay before her. The Divine is a fraud and this..imposter is the true Divine. How many years had they been in power, now? How many years were they waiting? Why did they wait? Was the suffering of Teyvat not enough? Was the blood that painted the steps of their stolen throne not enough?

She'd personally been on the wrong end of the Divine's wrath– she wonders..had they watched? Had they seen the cruel hand of their imposter and turned their back on Teyvat?

"I.." They hesitated. It made her seethe, her hands clenching into fists at her sides– her vision flickered, flames swelling within it's casing just to be smothered by the presence of the Divine. But once that spark had been lit, she refused to let it go out. "I didn't know."

The answer does not satisfy her. There is an itch beneath her skin that she cannot scratch, a fire that burns in her chest so hot it scorches even herself.

"And what about now? Are you content to cower like prey in the safety of the Palais Mermonia?" She snapped, taking a step forward, her brows furrowed and her glare intense– she can see the slightest bit of worry in their eyes. She revels in it. "Will you let them use your acolytes like pawns? How many more need to be broken on the steps to your throne before you act?"

Again, her vision flares and dims– it refuses to be used against the Divine that created it.

"Have you no answer?"

The room is silent. They do not speak and neither does she.

Even the world itself seems to quiet in the face of her accusations, fury boiling to the surface so hot it incinerated all it touched.

"I will kill them myself."

Their words are quiet, but they are not soft– there is a vindictive, searing anger that explodes out like dying stars within their eyes. The sight of constellations replaced by a void that would not be . The smell of ichor grows stronger– to the point she feels almost lightheaded.

"..I am aware that I have failed in preventing this, but I had no choice in the matter. Still," They muse, their voice like the tolling of bells. A solemn melody that stills the swelling fury burning in her chest, if only for a moment. "I will rectify it– I will tear down their throne of lies and let not even the earth tarnish itself by burying their corpse among it's soil."

They pause for a moment, holding out their hand– scarred and bandaged by the weapons of the devout, yet still they take upon the burden of dirtying their hands to save those who did not save them.

"Do you trust me, Arlecchino?"

Did she?

"Will you help me?"

She exhales heavily, meeting the starry iris' of the Divine with a scowl still tugging at her lips. Arlecchino trusted no one but herself.

"..Yes."

#sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin impact #fic tag #imposter au #genshin cult au #genshin impact cult au #arlecchino #lyney #furina #you do NOT wanna know what i got put thru writing this fic #trying 2 find out where arle was in the few times we DO see her and going down a rabbit hole of fuck fontaine and its layout actually! #I spent like 3 hours looking it up and checking in game it gives me a migraine thinking abt it. ew #anyway trying to write a really smart character is surprisingly difficult when ur as dumb as rocks #also used an actual chess match for this and gave myself an even worse migraine trying 2 make sure i didnt repeat moves or smth #furina doesnt get a spotlight yet just imagine her sitting in the corner trembling like a wet kitten you found on the side of the road #arlecchino goes thru a crisis more at 11 #shes a tired single dad shes isnt getting paid enough for this okay #hands u a fic over half the length of the other THREE PARTS #ehe :] #is arle actually on ur side??? is she gonna double cross u???? who knows!!!!! #shes unpredictable she might stab u for funsies #anyway im gonna go nap in a ditch now this took SO LONGGGGG OH MY G-D #also just think acolytes who arent buddy buddy w reader and even resent them is so tasty #bc how r they supposed 2 know reader was a human vibing 5 minutes before their got eebied 2 teyvat.. #reader gotta roll up their sleeves and get 2 WORK sometimes murder IS okay #they gotta fix some shit around here and that means committing several crimes all at once. sometimes more #a group can be g-d (just got here) their dragon (neuvi) their cat (archon) their dog (wrio) and their wolf (arle)

[a-book-dragon]

A Valvert fic

Ok.. This piece was quite hard. Please, I BEG YOU, don’t judge my style, English is not my native language though  I try to improve every day by reading other people’s works. I write a lot better in my own, Bulgarian.

This is a Post-Seine fic; the characters areValjean, Javert, Cosette and Marius. I label it as fix-fic, a little fluff, a little hurt and comfort, much shipping.

There is no explicit violence or sex here. Only a kissing scene (my first one, wohoo!). So I would rate it “teen and up”.

It’s also the first gay relationship I’ve written (yay for awkward, hot, virgin, probably asexual, but defintely romantic old gay dudes!).

"He isn´t here... how strange", Jean Valjean thought to himself. He quickly got out, just in time to see a shadow disappear behind the corner. The man followed it carefully. He was dirty, exhausted and overwhelmed of all the emotions and dangers of the day, but he suspected that Javert was going to call reinforcements, arrest him and probably attack his home. He didn't care about himself, but Cosette, Toussaint and the rest of the inhabitants were also there. And he knew what Javert was capable of to fulfill the law.

Jean followed him to the bridge. There the other man stared in the river for a long time, entered the police office, went out again (alone, thanks God)! After staring in the river again, Javert suddenly stepped on the guardrail and jumped.

Jean Valjean was puzzled and shocked. But without hesitation, he ran under the bridge. If he jumped right from it, he would collapse hitting in the cold water. The man took off his coat and shoes and dove into the river. In the first moment he felt like all his blood vessels, muscles and bones were frozen. His heart started pumping and he had trouble breathing even before gulping water. It was a torture for his body to hold his head above the lightning-fast waves, let alone save another person.

When he had almost lost hope, Valjean noticed a big black thing (Javert!), grabbed him by the hand, summoned all of his strength and pulled him out of the whirlpool that was about to suck him in the deep. Luckily, he was near the other side of the river and in a desperate attempt caught at a stone of the bridge and climbed on hard ground, dragging the body of Javert. For a long moment, Valjean was just sitting there, coughing loads of water and thanking God, just like he had done earlier this long, long night.

It took him some time to remember that he had a dying man next to him and hurried to do CPR and loosen his clothes. Javert was still alive and breating, so Jean put his own coat on him, lifted him and headed home. All the hospitals were closed at the time, so he decided to bring him to his home. He also had to decide how to explain Cosette the unfortunate event.

"Cosette... I have no choice, I'll reunite her with that guy, Marius. I hope she won't forget me, a miserable man, whom she calls Father without him deserving it...".

These sad thoughts were interrupted by something even more depressing - the weight of the unconscious Javert and his own body, which already refused to function. Gosh, was he tired of carrying fainted guys around. The night wind was biting him, as he was soaked with water. Gladly, they were at the front door of his home. After stumbling against the door, forgetting to open it in the first moment, Valjean brought the body upstairs, entered his apartament silently and put Javert on his bed. He changed him in his own old clothes and put all the blankets he found over him. Then he made a big fire in the fireplace and moved the bed near it.

All of a sudden, he started trembling uncontrollably and collapsed on the ground, almost unconscious. He could only pull the carpet and wrap himself with it before he fell in a dreamless sleep.

…

- Papa! PAPA! - Cosette woke him up, banging on the door.

Gosh. He needed several seconds to remove the carpet, get off the floor (what was he doing there?) and hurry to open the door.

- Cosette, don't enter! - he shouted, got out and slammed it.

- Papa, you never oversleep and always look preppy - the girl, stylish even in her everyday dress, looked critically at the creased and still wet clothes her dad had slept in. – What’s up?

- Umm honey, I had lots of work to do and fell asleep in my chair. And my room is a mess...

- Shall I call Toussaint?

- No, no, I'll sort it out. – the old man cringed. – Isn't it time for you two to do the groceries? By the way, I assure you Marius is now safe in his home, though he has a serious injury. He will be very thankful if you sew some bandage for him.

- Oh yes! Can’t wait to help Marius! First gotta go, but I'll talk to you later, dear monsieur!

He smiled. He used to call her "dear mademoiselle" when she was young to boost her confidence when the girls in the convent bullied her for being ugly. He never understood them. His daughter was the most beautiful girl in the world!

"I'm really getting old, I shouldn't get lost in memories", when Valjean made sure the women were gone, he returned to his room. He was glad to see that Javert was better and his breathing and heartbeat were back to normal. Jean removed all the sharp objects from his sight (the man had tried to commit suicide, after all).

…

Javert opened his eyes while the other man was sitting on his chair with a book to fill his time waiting for him to wake up.

- What? Where am I? - he looked around in confusion.

Valjean peered above the book.

- Ah, at last! You are awake. Do you need anything?

- AAAARGHHHHHHH! - Javert tried to escape, but fell onto the floor, groaning in pain. He lifted his eyes, full of more hate than fear. - JEAN VALJEAN! I only wanted to die, but you´re here to torture me again!

- Stop. - Valjean said firmly, forcing him to go back to bed. - You will hurt yourself.

- Why would you even care - Javert hummed, letting Valjean put him in bed because he had no strength to do anything else. - In your eyes, I shall be a criminal. Like you were in mine.

- Were... well, I'm happy you won't arrest me. – Jean replied with a grin. – And whatever you’ve done, you’re a human in trouble. Isn't it enough? I was actually ready to get arrested. It was your right.

- First, I’m not a “human in trouble”. I am – was – completely capable, it was you who were creating me trouble. Second, stop pretending to be so freaking pure and shaming my own selfish ass! I refuse to talk to a weird person like you. Just give me a knife, ok? Or better, a gun.

- I have a better idea. – Valjean rolled his eyes. – Going to prepare some tea and food. Then I’ll decide what to do with you and how to explain Cosette everything.

- Just throw me in the river, where you took me from.

- I don’t think to do that. All lives are important and no matter if you see the meaning of yours, it has one. God has created humans like that.

- Except your life, right? You threw yourself in a river for a person who WANTED to die, you fake righteous shit with no self-respect!

Javert had no idea what he was saying - he had seen Jean doing lots of crazy and risky things, but he never could've known how the former convict’s memory always turned back to the person he was once. Back then, he was ready to kill, rape, steal, hurt, lie... And what he did was unforgivable. He totally deserved rotting in jail, but he would be more useful raising Cosette, helping the poor and saving people's lives. He hoped to wash away his crimes that way. But he knew he never could.

- You have no answer, your “morals” are so shallow!- Javert turned to the other side.

“Said the one who attempted to end his life because his value system failed him”, Valjean did his best to keep this to himself.

- Oh, I'm such an idiot! The food! – he facepalmed instead, ran to the kitchen and quickly prepared some sandwiches and tea. Brought them to Javert who reluctantly accepted to eat a bit.

Just after that Cosette and Toussaint returned with grocery baskets.

- Umm… I have to tell you what happened last night - Jean said to them after opening the door. – I couldn’t sleep and went for a walk. Then I saw a man in the river, near its side – he had probably fallen of some bridge. I took him here, he’s in my room and will probably stay there for some time before I take him to the hospital. Any objections?

- Of course not, papa! – Cosette smiled. – It’s great that you helped a person!

- He saved me – the girl jumped out of fright, hearing a hoarse voice. – This bastard risked his miserable life to take me out of the river.

Cosette, outraged (in the convent where she had grown saying words like “bastard” was a major sin), stormed into Valjean’s room where Javert was lying.

- How dare you insult my father? If what you’re saying is true, you better be thankful! He has always deserved better than he received, don’t make things worse!

- Young lady, you make me want to end my life even more – Javert rolled his eyes. – Could you please shut up and go play with your dolls?

- Javert, stop. – Valjean interfered, hiding his clenched fists in the pockets of his coat. – My daughter Cosette just loves me too much, she has done you no wrong.

- What an amusing couple are you two! I just have to insult one of you in front of the other and see when I’ll get killed.

- Well, you’re also much more amusing after “falling” in a river. You probably discovered your sense of humor there – Valjean knew this was passive-aggressive, but when it was about Cosette…

- Do you know each other from before? – the girl raised her eyebrow in suspicion.

- We were… coworkers once – this wasn’t a lie, right? When he was Monsieur Madeleine, Javert was his subordinate.

- Whatever, losers. Just let me sleep now. – Javert, who already didn’t care about his pride, image, laws and even life, now had let all his anger and frustration out in the form of sarcasm. Or at least Jean Valjean thought so.

- Geez, papa. I would punch this man, if he wasn’t sick.

- Annoying coworkers, they are everywhere – Jean shrugged.

- By the way, I’m going to prepare some bandage for Marius!

- I’m happy… You will see him soon – her dad had many feelings thinking of this particular moment, but happiness wasn’t one of them.

- Ok, see you at breakfast! – The teenager stormed to her room.

Jean used his time to call a doctor, who took Javert to the hospital. No more sarcasm! But at times he checked how the other man was going, despite of being physically and emotionally busy around Cosette and the wedding preparation.

SOME MONTHS LATER...

Jean Valjean turned back home, sat in his chair and desperatelly covered his face with hands. He wanted to cry, but had no more tears left. Every sign for Marius that he shall leave them alone, every "Mr. Jean" from his dear child Cosette, every refusal for any affection from him... it was killing him. He was doing it to himself, he knew. But who needed him, an old criminal, anymore? He had done his job. And deserved nothing else.

He felt an almost physical pain. The end was near... Then he heard loud banging on the door.

- Enter! - Valjean said.

And they entered. First - Cosette, then - Marius (both handcuffed) and lastly - Javert!

- What is the meaning of that? - Valjean felt as if he was dreaming.

- Papa! - Cosette started jumping around him like a girl. That long-forgotten word soothed the wounds of the old man's soul - You know what happened? Inspector Javert helped us research who had saved him, interrogated my terrible "keeper" Thénardier and all the evidences point to you! Now, inspector, can you remove the handcuffs so I can hug my father?

Javert did it with something that looked like a slight smile. Cosette didn’t seem to hate him anymore.

- Accept my apologies. You're a hero, Mr. Valjean - Marius was all red. – If only I could repay you…

- No problems! You're like my own son - Valjean said sincerely and tears filled his eyes. He was overwhelmed by emotion and unable for stopping them running down his cheeks.

- Oh, Papa! So glad we learned it now! - Cosette noticed them and hugged him. - Sorry for causing you so much pain! You stupid man! You should have told us the whole truth!

- One more month without you would kill him – Marius agreed.

- In reality, he caused the pain to himself, right? - Javert, who was just watching the scene up to now, interrupted them. – This is dumb, because “All lives are important. No matter if you see the meaning of yours, it has one.”

- You're right. I shall forget the past. Thank you, thank you very much! - Valjean stood up and shook Javert’s hand so tightly that he almost broke it.

- No porblems... friend - this word was new for Javert and he stumbled a little. He left the happy family in the room with a little smirk on his face. His first happy smile from years.

2 MONTHS LATER…

In the next 2 months, Javert had been visiting their house so often that he became a part of the family. A quiet and strict part, but still a part. Him and Jean Valjean had long conversations about politics, sociology, economy and law. For Valjean’s surprise, non-fanatic and non-suicidal Javert was a trustworthy and interesting person.

As for Cosette and Marius, they were still living their love bliss and were adorable in their naivety. The old men were often joking about them – good-intentionally, of course.

One evening, when everybody else was sleeping, they were sitting on the balcony, snacking on fruits, wine (and, of course, bread) and having a conversation about the smallest details of their past.

- Amongst the criminals, I was constantly beaten, because they hated my attitude. Once I scolded them to the police and then couldn’t move one week – Javert gulped a big mouthful of wine. – And the decent citizens never paid attention to me, for them I was no more important than a stray dog.

- Sounds terrible – Valjean shook his head and tapped Javert’s shoulder.

- Sorry, you don’t have to listen to my self – pity. I think I’m drunk…

- But you just drank one glass – Jean laughed.

- I have never drank. Probably once… I don’t remember. And what about you, Mr. Righteous? – Javert laughed hoarsely.

- I had to drink all the winters in prison, otherwise I would freeze.

- Really sorry for causing this to you…

- No problems. Now it’s time for you to go home.

- You’re right – Javert lifted himself from the chair, but staggered and convulsively caught to his friend’s collar to not fall on the ground. His breath stopped. Jean looked surprised – but not unpleasantly.

Heat raised to Javert’s head. He leaned forward until their faces were centimeters close. Jean Valjean was blushing hard and his heartbeat could be heard from a meter away. He hesitantly lifted his hand and ran his fingertips up to Javert´s neck. His hand was fiery hot, but it sent shivers down the other man´s spine. Then Valjean stood on his toes, being too short to do otherwise, and pressed a gentle kiss on his lips.

Javert was hanging there awkwardly, not knowing what to do with his hands, grasping for air. Suddenly he grabbed a handful of Jean´s hair and pulled him into a passionate, devouring kiss.

The men didn´t realize how their hands twitched together.

A/N –  Though society back then wasn’t tolerant to LGBT people, it was no problem for Jean Valjean and Javert, because they acted like friends or soulmates, loving and respecting each other most of the time, as most old, long-married happy couples do. Their time for mad, perfect love had already passed. Though Cosette suspected something, she just nodded and smiled, happy for her father.

#fanfiction #lesmis #les mis #les miserables #lesmiserables #jean valjean #javert #valjean #valvert #cosette #marius #marius pontmercy #shipping #fanfic #please don't kill me

[hysterialevi]

In the Smoke pt. 8 (Cobblebats)

From Thomas’ POV

GCPD

Navigating through the halls of the precinct, I hastily made my way to Carmine’s room as police officers stared at me with suspicious eyes, almost grimacing whenever I passed by. Apparently, rumors were starting to float around that I was working with the notorious crime-boss, and multiple news companies had even received a decent amount of evidence, but so far, nothing solid had reached the surface. Yet. Though, it was still concerning. After all, where were they finding this ‘evidence’ in the first place, and who was giving it to them? Right now, the only person who I could think of was Penguin--considering his vested interest in me--and there were no other notable enemies that I knew of who would’ve pulled off such a blatant move. I supposed only time would tell.

Arriving at Carmine’s room, the muffled, high-pitched sound of a heart monitor reached my ears, and once I opened the door, I saw the man himself lying in a bed, practically dead. His face had been decorated with multiple, dark bruises, and there was a rather prominent one circling his neck from when Penguin tried to strangle him. There were also several burns charring his skin due to the explosion, and a generous amount of bandages had been wrapped around him as if he would fall apart without them.

Slipping my hands into my pockets, I quietly approached my old friend and sat in a nearby chair, waiting for him to wake up as worry started to fill me. Carmine was as tough as nails--no one was questioning that--and it would take a hell lot of effort to bring him down, but I was still anxious about his condition. None of us were as young or brash as we used to be, and our physical strength only deteriorated with age. No matter how strong Carmine was, everyone had their limits, and I was afraid he had been pushed beyond his.

Suddenly, a soft grunt broke the silence of the room. I looked up.

“...Tommy?” Carmine mumbled, barely able to open his eyes. A weak chuckle escaped him. “Damn, you’ve got some clout, don’t you? My own wife can’t get in to seem me.”

I cut right to the chase. “How you doing, Carmine? I know Penguin roughed you up quite a bit.”

He scoffed. “Roughed me up? The son-of-a-bitch threw me off a goddamn building. Or, at least, he tried to. Batman showed up, you see. Somehow caught me before I could hit the ground. I guess it’s true, what they say about the vigilante. He really will save anyone.”

“He doesn’t save everyone,” I corrected, “but he won’t let anyone die either. If he can help it.”

“A noble goal, but ultimately useless. Enemies don’t get rid of themselves, you know. Just look at me: I’ll be out of this tin can by tomorrow. It’s gonna take more than handcuffs to keep me down.”

I smiled at that, but it quickly faded away. Carmine noticed my troubled look.

“Hey, everything all right, Tommy?”

I rubbed my temple out of exhaustion, letting out a breath. “Carmine, I think Bruce is catching on. To what we do.”

“Is that so?” He didn’t appear to be bothered. “ And what makes you say that?”

“Well, nothing specific, but he’s been...distant, lately. Like he’s trying to avoid me. Just the other day, on the anniversary of Martha’s death, Bruce disappeared before I even woke up. Normally, we always visit her together, but that day, I barely got to see him for more than a minute. Everything he does now is just...so unpredictable.”

Carmine laughed at that. “I wonder where he gets it from.” His chest heaved slightly with a short series of coughs. “I wouldn’t put too much thought into it. The boy probably just wants some space. He’s always been a lone wolf anyways.”

“But not like this.”

He sighed in a reminiscent tone. “We can wish against it as much as we want, but kids grow up, Tommy. Little boys become men. Their naivety turns into experience, and their ignorance turns into awareness. Bruce is gonna learn the truth eventually, whether we like it or not. He may not act like it, but I know, somewhere in that tuxedo, he understands the situation. You might as well explain it to him.”

I wasn’t so sure of the suggestion. “Maybe I should’ve told him sooner, but by this point, I’m not even certain how he’d react. To know that I’m still working with the man who killed his mother.”

“Bruce has been exposed to the world of politics more than a few times,” Carmine reassured. “He’ll understand that you can’t always opt out of something, no matter how nasty it is. Hell, I’m not even the biggest fan of Ham anymore, but we’re twenty years in deep. You can’t just dig your way out of two decades of history. That takes blood and time. Both of which we can’t afford right now.”

I twiddled mindlessly with the end of my mustache in thought. “...you’re right. You’re right. Perhaps it is time to tell him. I just don’t know how.”

“It won’t be easy, and I can’t even guarantee it’ll end well, but honesty can do wonders. Believe me.”

Before we could carry on the conversation any further, I received a phone call from Alfred, the gentle buzz of my phone emitting a soft, sharp noise. Standing up from my chair, I answered the call and walked over to the window, taking in the dark view of Gotham.

“Master Thomas?” The butler sounded panicked.

“I’m here, Alfred.”

“Oh, thank goodness. Sir, I’ve come across something rather...disturbing. I was just tidying up the manor, you see, and I was getting ready to clean your study, until I realized someone had gone through your stuff.”

I lowered my voice to a worried hush. “What do you mean ‘gone through?’ And who is this ‘someone?”

“Well, from what I can see, multiple of your files pertaining to Arkham Asylum and Wayne Enterprises have vanished. And on top of that...” Alfred paused for a moment, clearly hesitant to tell me more. “Sir, the entrance to the Batcave has been opened.”

My body stiffened at the news, and I could feel myself slightly shaking.

“What--opened? How? Did they mess with anything else down there?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know. On the bright side though, your gear seems unharmed, and the Batsuit appears to remain intact. Whoever broke into the cave was mostly interested in the computer, and just like before, they only accessed documents relating to Arkham. Who on Earth do you think could’ve done this?”

It didn’t take long for me to think of a suspect. “Penguin must be responsible. He has to be. Not too long ago, he was just harassing Carmine for info about that place, and once he was done with him, he mentioned having to deal with the Waynes somehow. This must’ve been what he had in mind.”

Alfred let out an unsettled sigh. “We must be careful, sir. If Penguin really was behind this incident, then your identity is at risk.”

“I know. Speaking of careful, has Bruce returned home yet?”

“No. And I’ve not received any calls or texts from him. Has he, by chance, contacted you?”

“No, not that I’m surprised.” I dragged a hand down my face. “All right. This is getting out of hand. I’ll try to get a hold of him, figure out where he is. In the meantime, I need you to dig deeper into the break-in, and see if we can’t pinpoint the invader.”

“Of course, sir. I will do everything I can.”

“Thanks, Al. I’ll talk to you later.”

Ending the call, I shoved the phone back into my pocket and turned to Carmine, who was eyeing me with curiosity.

“Everything okay, Tommy?”

I headed for the exit and grabbed the doorknob, holding on for a bit longer than I intended. 

“...yeah,” I lied. “Everything’s fine. Look, I gotta get going. I’ll see you some other time, Carmine.”

“Sure thing. Try not to lose your head out there.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Leaving the room, I replayed everything Alfred just told me in my head over and over again, my heart racing with paranoia as I sped my way out of the precinct. Not only had someone potentially discovered Batman’s identity and rummaged through my stuff, they had also stolen all of the records about Arkham Asylum, and the debate was literally just tomorrow. If I didn’t fix this on time, the following days were about to be one hell of a shit show, and I was far from prepared. 

From Bruce’s POV

CHILDREN OF ARKHAM HQ

Oz and I attentively watched the security camera footage from Arkham Asylum, which included Esther, Hill, Falcone, and my father. They were all cramped in some tiny, padded cell, and Esther had been bound to a hospital cot against her will while everyone else surrounded her. There was also an unknown man standing next to my father, holding a syringe of some blue liquid.

“Subject Nine, Esther Cobblepot,” my father announced, “you’ve been declared criminally insane...and committed to Arkham indefinitely as a ward of the state.

“Please--” she begged in a shaky voice. I almost didn’t recognize her. “--I’ll sell you the land. Please, don’t do this--”

Hill approached the cot, snobby as always. “Hrmph. You had your chance. You should have made the deal we offered you. Give her the drug.”

Esther started struggling. “Thomas, we--we’re friends. Our boys play together--”

My father joined in. “You were warned, Esther. You know I always get what I want.” He turned to the third man. “Commence the procedure. Give her a dose she won’t come back from.”

Esther didn’t say anything in response to that and simply sat there, her head hanging low with defeat as the man positioned the syringe’s needle above her neck. Why wasn’t he doing anything? Was he having second thoughts?

After a second of silence, he snapped back into business and all of his sympathy disappeared as he slowly started to puncture her skin with the needle, injecting the deranged chemical.

Barely a heartbeat later, Esther was already shrieking at the top of her lungs like a madwoman and wildly flailing around in the cot, her face twisted with insanity. The footage abruptly ended there, and the screen went dark, leaving us with our thoughts.

I glanced over at Oz, who was dead silent. 

“...Oz?” I put a hand on his shoulder. “...are you okay?”

Even though the footage had stopped, he continued glaring at the black screen and clenched his fists, blinking rapidly. His eyes looked glossy, and I could tell he was about to snap.

“...mum...” Oz whispered, voice trembling. Suddenly, he snatched the beer bottle resting on his desk and hurled it at the wall with an enraged shout, the glass violently shattering all over the floor. I flinched at the outburst, a little scared.

“I’m gonna kill all of them, Bruce,” Oz vowed, furiously slamming his fist into the wall. “I’m gonna kill every. Single. Fucking. One of them. They think they can just...just do that to my mum and--and...” 

He trailed off and slid down towards the floor, breaking into tears as he curled up and his face in his knees.

Leaving the desk, I carefully took a spot next to Oz, saying nothing. He didn’t want to hear words right now. He just needed company. 

Pulling Oz into a comforting hug, the man instantly wrapped his arms around me and buried himself into my embrace, shaking uncontrollably against me. This was the first time I’d ever seen Oz like this, save for when he used to be bullied at school, and I wasn’t quite sure how to handle the situation. So I just did what my instincts said, and continued to hold him protectively, letting him do whatever he needed.

After a few minutes of constant sobbing, Oz finally brought his gaze up to me, eyes red and face wet. His brow was furrowed in anger, and he wouldn’t let go.

“We’re gonna make them pay, Bruce,” he growled. “We’re gonna take back our city.”

#cobblebats #batman telltale #bruce wayne #oswald cobblepot #harvey dent #fanfic #story